


on our hands and on our faces

by cowboykillers



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Established Relationship, Family Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-26
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-29 06:52:11
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,318
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6363835
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cowboykillers/pseuds/cowboykillers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's awful having a brother who seems incapable of picking up a quill and jotting down three quick lines to let his long-suffering family know he's still alive, so Mia and Rosalie Rutherford decide to take matters into their own hands. Bran would have come, too, but the new baby limits his mobility, and anyway, he's nicely settled where he is. They show up without invitation, without warning, and without any intention to leave.</p><p>The Inquisition can always use a few good women, right? </p><p>The question is, will Cullen survive his family's descent on the keep, and will Dorian survive an induction into the Rutherford family?</p>
            </blockquote>





	on our hands and on our faces

**Author's Note:**

> Please don't look directly at me. I told myself I wasn't going to start any other fics until I finished at least one of the ones I had going, but then I couldn't stop thinking about Rosalie and Mia joining the Inquisition, and it begged to be written. Dorian and Cullen are established as a couple, but honestly, only to themselves and probably Lavellan; they're pretty quiet about their relationship as a whole, which will make for great family shenanigans while they're all trying to get to know each other again.
> 
> Background pairings to be revealed as the story progresses! 
> 
> Title taken from Laughter Lines by Bastille -- _change is on our hands and on our faces_.

 "Commander!"

One of the doors to his office bursts open on a breathless laugh, and because there is no real urgency in the tone, Cullen takes the time to finish the sentence he is writing, blow on it, and carefully set the parchment aside before he looks up. He arches both of his eyebrows as he beholds the Inquisition's intrepid leader, rosy-cheeked and doing her best to shove an elbow in her partner-in-crime's side, and Dorian Pavus, possibly the worst influence Thedas has ever seen, cheerfully deflecting her every wriggle and twist. 

If he didn't know that the two of them separately could lay waste to half the continent if they set their mind to it, much less when working together, he would despair over being surrounded by infants. 

Patiently, blandly, he greets, "Dorian, Inquisitor. What can I do for you?"

Lavellan manages to land a blow, finally, and Dorian grunts before sidestepping, brushing his hands down the front of his tunic. With a smirk entirely too suited to his smug face, he drawls, "You have two very angry women here to see you, Commander. Quite beautiful, as well, which I imagine is half the problem, as they seem to have discovered one another."

Nonplussed, Cullen sits back, raising an eyebrow at the two of them. "Inquisitor?"

Shooting Dorian a deeply disgruntled look, Lavellen plants her hands on her hips and agrees, "They arrived just moments ago. Blackwall is taking care of their mounts, and they marched into the keep, asking for Cullen Stanton Rutherford, as polite as anything, but absolutely not taking no for an answer. Varric's distracting them for -- are you all right, Cullen?"

He slouches in his seat, dragging a hand down his face, and ignores the delighted crow of laughter from where Dorian is standing. "Two women, you said? They wouldn't happen to be called Mia and Rosalie, would they?"

"At least he remembers their names," Dorian says to Lavellan, and she makes a rude noise in return. "What? Often, men don't. Simply because _you_  would never--"

"--Cullen's not _like_  that, there's going to be a perfectly reasonable explanation. Besides, one's young enough to be his daughter--"

"Rosalie's in her twenties," Cullen interjects, a little wounded, as he drops his hand to his lap. With the other, he points to Dorian, tone going stern. "And you, stop making salacious insinuations about my sisters."

It takes a moment for his words to set in, but when they do, Dorian's face falls in direct proportion to Lavellan's suddenly bright, gleeful smile. 

" _Sisters_ ," she enthuses, rounding his desk to grab at him and haul him to his feet. "Get up, come on, let's not keep them waiting. I didn't know you had sisters!"

Moving a man as tall, broad, and burdened by armor as Cullen prefers to be is no easy task, though he doesn't doubt that she would be up to it if she put her mind to it. He stands with her, fixing Dorian with another unamused look, before gently brushing her hands off his forearm and adjusting the fit of his cloak. "I have two sisters and a brother, and last I heard, they were all safely settled in South Reach. I was not expecting a visit."

And he would be more concerned about the unexpected nature of it if Lavellen showed any hint of worry. Neither Mia nor Rosalie were good at hiding their grief, at least to his recollection, and Lavellan is one of the most expressive people he knows. Having his sisters descend upon Skyhold is certainly a surprise, but he won't jump to the worst possibly conclusion unless he's given a good reason to.

With a delicate sniff, Dorian mutters, "This is substantially less amusing than I'd hoped it would be."

Cullen holds the door for both of them, mouth twisting into a wry smile, and gestures them through. "Trust me, you'll be entertained well enough as soon as I'm within shouting range."

***

It feels a little ridiculous to enter the receiving hall with the Inquisitor and Dorian both hot on his heels, but they'd paused just outside and ushered him forward, and it seemed a waste of energy to try to argue the point with them. Either way, he is going to have to weather Mia's boisterous personality and her good intentions, and it is  _going_  to be public, of that he has no doubt. Of his family, it seems he is the only one who prefers to keep his affairs to himself, what he feels is the natural product of being an awkward boy in a small town where no one had any kind of secrets, but is apparently the exception. Knowing his fate, Cullen would rather soldier on and have the scene behind him sooner rather than later, all the easier to be forgotten in favor of Skyhold's next curiosity. Maker knows there's no short supply of drama and intrigue in the Inquisition.

No one pays them much mind, a fact he is grateful for, because it gives him time to observe his sisters before engaging with them. It's been over a decade since he's seen either of them, and the women flanking Varric could be perfect strangers to him -- likely would be, were he to pass them in the street, because how would he recognize their faces, after all this time? -- and it slows his steps, twists something bittersweet and melancholy into his chest as the younger and taller of the two tosses her head back, laughing loudly and freely. The last time he'd seen Rosalie, she'd barely come up to their father's elbow, and in her place stands a fully grown woman, her face all sharp angles and reminding him so much of their mother that it nearly robs his breath.

At his side, Lavellan sucks in a short breath, and he can feel Dorian's arm brush his own. 

With a small, weak attempt at a smile, he murmurs, "How they've grown." as Varric shoots Rosalie a pleased look, hands on his hips, and Mia rolls her eyes. Her gaze drifts past and then abruptly jerks back to Cullen, and he stops, inclining his head, as silence thumps between them in time to his suddenly galloping heart.

Jolting suddenly, as though coming back to herself all at once, Mia rests a hand on Rosalie's shoulder and raises her voice above the din of the hall. "Cullen Stanton _Rutherford_."

He winces, ignoring Dorian's pleased huff of laughter at his side, and slowly opens his arms to Mia's rapid approach. Each step is punctuated by an accusation more severe than the last -- "You never _write,_ you never _visit_ ," -- until she slams into him, wrapping her arms around his chest and burrowing in tight. He simply holds her, chin propped up atop the sweep of her strawberry blonde hair, as wavy as he recalls it from his childhood.

Meeting Rosalie's eye, he watches her smile grow, slow and steady, and runs his hands soothingly down Mia's back. "I've been a terrible brother," he admits, voice pitched low just for her, and she manages a brief, strangled laugh. "But I'm atrocious at letters. You know that."

Drawing back, Mia wipes at her eyes, breath a little unsteady, and smiles at him. "You've got a lot of explaining to do, you know."

Shifting so that he can draw her under his arm, Cullen nods toward Rosalie, already steering Mia out of the keep and toward the visiting dignitaries' accommodation. "Why don't we get the two of you settled before you bellow at me any more?"

"That's fair," Rosalie quips, trotting over to join them, and she tosses a wink to Dorian, who has been unabashedly staring the entire time.

Cullen catches the tail end of Dorian's smile, and makes a mental note to not leave the two of them alone for any appreciable length of time, for all their sakes.

**Author's Note:**

> Come hang out with me on tumblr at [tevenesass](http://tevenesass.tumblr.com). I'm a shy nerd who likes making friends and rants in the tags a lot about things.


End file.
